Reassurance
by BHP
Summary: During the seventh season episode "Faith", Gibbs rests a hand on Jackson's shoulder while they talk. From that single movement, this story.


Author's note: All the usual disclaimers apply – I don't own the show or the characters, only the words on this page. And, as always, I'd love to hear what you think.

**Reassurance  
><strong>**by BHP**

_Jackson: From up there, it doesn't seem like much of anything. You pull the trigger, feel the release, nothing. I never even thought about it much. Now it's all I think about. How did you do it all these years, son? I need to know.  
><em>_Gibbs: This is why you came?  
><em>_Jackson: That, and because it's Christmas.  
><em>_Gibbs: It's not supposed to be easy.  
><em>_Jackson: Nobody said it would be, huh?  
><em>_Gibbs: No_

"_Faith" NCIS, Season 7_

Leroy had never been an overly demonstrative child. It was something Jackson had learned to accept many years ago. Not that he'd gone out of his way to try to change the boy. You could only hit your head against a brick wall so many times before facing the inevitable truth. Leroy had always had the idea in his head that real men didn't talk about emotional issues; real men simply did what had to be done and moved on. Leaving the wreckage behind them. Jackson didn't know where Leroy had found the necessary strength from, because he was sure that he wasn't able to move on from what he'd done. He knew that he'd had no choice, but that couldn't change the way he felt.

He could feel Leroy's hand on his shoulder, the thumb brushing a soothing, repetitive pattern. It reminded him of the way his son sanded wood: slow, gentle, yet totally aware and focused. And Jackson realised something that he'd struggled to understand for years: Leroy had never been someone to make large unnecessary displays, but rather to make the smaller, lingering and more meaningful gestures. Jackson reached up to touch the hand on his shoulder and looked his son in the eye. He smiled at Leroy's chagrin at being caught out, and found the courage to speak.

"I understand that it won't be easy; but it can be done. So how did you do it, son? Where'd you find the strength?" He could see Leroy knew what he meant, but wasn't sure how to answer. Or maybe even whether he should. Jackson was well aware that some things were better left unsaid, undisturbed in their uneasy slumber. He'd never talked much about his time in the service for the same reason. And maybe that had been a bad decision; maybe if he'd been willing to talk to Leroy years ago – really talk, about the important things – perhaps they'd never have needed to rebuild their relationship.

* * *

><p>"How did I do it?" Leroy could see Jackson's attention shift back to the conversation. The intensity of the gaze was unsettling, but the need in his father's eyes was too important to ignore. "I'm not sure." Gibbs' admission was grudging. He didn't like not being sure of his ground, of not knowing exactly where he stood. Which made his odd friendship with Tony a complete paradox, because Tony lived to do the unexpected. And usually, to laugh about it later. Although Somalia had been different; there'd been no laughter there. And none since then, now that he thought about it. No laughter, and very few movie references. He'd have to talk to Tony again about it. Obviously, one talk wasn't going to be enough to deal with their African nightmare. Then again, no amount of talking would ever have been enough to deal with Shannon and Kelly's deaths. Which was why he so seldom mentioned them. He felt his fingers clench on his dad's shoulder, but couldn't bring himself to loosen his grip. A deep breath helped him ease his hand loose, and he picked at the label on his beer bottle to keep his fingers busy.<p>

"There are … options, I guess you'd call them. Five." Gibbs watched his father's eyes carefully, but saw only questions.

"Wallowing in guilt." Jackson nodded along with Gibbs, before Gibbs spoke again. "Been there, done that. Not useful." A flick of his wrist dismissed that option.

"Denial. Pretending it didn't happen." Gibbs smiled reluctantly in answer to Jackson's raised eyebrow. "Yeah. I agree. Definitely not useful either."

"Then there's distraction." Gibbs turned the bottle absently in his hands, as though feeling for flaws to sand away. His unseeing gaze seemingly focused on the crackling fire, he tilted his head to the side. Gibbs tapped a nail gently against the side of the bottle, moving it up and down to listen to the varying tones the glass produced. Then he drew a breath and met Jackson's patient gaze. "That option's actually not bad. Find a hobby, meet a friend, get something else front and centre for a while."

Jackson's smile was sudden, and unexpectedly knowing, and Gibbs realised that he'd said too much. "Boats. Toys. All wooden, handmade and hand painted." Cutting off Gibbs' still forming protest, Jackson kept talking. "Now don't you ever be embarrassed by the fact that you've got emotions, Leroy. You want everyone to think you're stronger than that. Rubbish. You're human, and I'm glad of it."

Gibbs sighed in defeat. How did his father always manage to see something he'd rather not share? But Jackson wasn't done yet. "And I don't think anyone else believes it either. Not Abby, or all those people in your team. And I just know that Tony doesn't believe that."

Gibbs had to nod and concede that point. Tony knew better. Tony had seen him at his worst: when he left NCIS, when he'd gone rogue with Maddie, and with the Domino affair. Yet Tony still cared enough to show up and drag Gibbs out of his self-imposed penance. Pizza, beer, bourbon, company, endless trivia and movie chatter. Tony shared the weight with no thought for himself, whatever it took to make Gibbs' burden a little lighter. Proof of method number three. And number four, if you considered it carefully.

"Then there's another option, Dad. Balance." Gibbs stalled and Jackson motioned for him to go on. Leroy's silence lasted for a long time, the only sound in the room the gentle snapping of logs in the fire. Gibbs' mind wandered over cases solved, children saved, murderers and terrorists arrested. Then he slowly pulled his attention back to the present and took a deep breath.

"Sometimes, I try to think about the reason, the 'why' it happened." Spotting the puzzled expression on Jackson's face, Gibbs expanded. "You saved those girls. You did a good thing, the right thing in a bad situation."

Gibbs could see his dad thinking that over. It was something he'd learned about Jackson as a child: his father liked to think everything through and make a reasoned decision. Basing actions on emotion only caused trouble in the long run. The insight caught Gibbs unaware and he suddenly realised what had caused some of Jackson's emotional turmoil: he'd been forced to act on instinct. Gibbs reached out again and rested his hand on his father's shoulder. Small comfort, as he knew from experience. But better than none at all. Especially if the hand belonged to someone who cared about you.

Another few swallows emptied the beer bottle and Gibbs leaned forward to place it gently on the table. Jackson stirred beside him, and Gibbs could see the moment his dad focused back on the present.

"So what's number five, son?"

Gibbs offered his dad a blank and innocent look, while silently cursing his father's sharp memory. "Five?"

"The fifth method. You said there were five." Gibbs continued to ignore the question, hoping Jackson would let it slide. Instead, his father laughed at him. "I may be older than a lot of people, Leroy, but I'm not deaf yet. So spit it out."

"Not important, Dad. Just let it go."

Jackson's look spoke volumes about his opinion of that statement, but he let it pass for the moment. He sighed deeply. "I guess what bothers me the most is how pointless it all seems. Sure, that young man made bad choices, stupid ones even, but it didn't have to end like that."

"He didn't give you a choice, Dad."

"I know that! But he didn't deserve to die."

"Maybe that's true." Gibbs sighed softly. "But not everyone deserves to live." Gibbs only realised he'd murmured that out loud when he heard Jackson's indrawn breath. Gibbs rubbed his hands over tired eyes and steeled himself to see the condemnation in his dad's eyes. All his life, he'd known how highly Jackson valued life; any life, from an ant in the garden to a mass murderer in a Federal penitentiary. And in spite of a life of independence and hard choices, he didn't really want to lose Jackson – or his respect – again, just as they were starting to build a new kind of relationship. For all his age, he still felt like a child about to disappoint the most important person in the world. He risked a glance, and saw only a desire to understand, not condemn. And the gentle smile he'd loved since boyhood.

"This is number five?"

Gibbs nodded slowly. Jackson reached out a hand, paused uncertainly for a second, and then laid it on Gibbs' arm. Gibbs stiffened and tried to pull away, but Jackson refused to be put off. "I'm still your father, Leroy. Never think that I'm not willing to listen. I may not always understand you, but I'm here anyway."

Gibbs felt a small grin of relief rise unchecked and considered what to say. Most of the causes and reasons behind his belief were classified, and a lot of it wasn't his story to tell. Many people deserved the right to tell their own stories. Most especially, Ziva and Tony were entitled to their privacy too. He thought of the look on Saleem Ulman's face as he prepared to slit Tony's throat in a dusty Somali prison cell; of everything that had been done to Ziva; of the unthinking abuse handed out to Tim. And he saw his bullet end the threat, along with Saleem's life. He felt no regret, and he knew he never would. He felt no guilt, either. That would have been his burden if he'd been unable to save Tony's life, unable to save Ziva and Tim. The weight of guilt he felt for not protecting Shannon and Kelly was heavy enough without adding to it. Though he still felt nothing when he thought about killing the man who'd murdered Shannon and Kelly. Family was worth any amount of damnation.

"Dad, I can't give you specifics."

"Do I look like I need them, son? This isn't about who did what, or when, or how. It's about how you feel about it."

"See, there's the problem. I don't feel anything except satisfaction. And a fair amount of selfish pride." Jackson looked confused, and Gibbs' smile was chilling. "It was a hell of a shot, if I say so myself."

"What else could it be? It was you." Jackson didn't sound surprised; rather, he sounded proud, pleased that his son was so good at what he did. The quiet stretched until Jackson broke it. "Satisfaction?"

Gibbs nodded. "This guy, the guy I killed … he was going to kill someone, some people, too important to lose. And I just couldn't let him."

"Tony. And Ziva, and Tim?" Jackson's tone made it clear that the first name wasn't a guess, and that he didn't really have much doubt about the other two. Gibbs was amazed once again at his father's perception. Though perhaps he shouldn't be; he must have inherited his skill for leaps in logic from someone.

"I never said th-"

"You didn't have to, son." Jackson's tone was patient, once again a parent explaining the obvious to a young child. "You're not the sort of man to go off half-cocked, Leroy. For you to do what you did, you had to have a real good reason. I'm thinking family might be the only reason good enough for you."

Serious eyes dared Gibbs to speak, and for the first time since leaving to join the Marines, Gibbs backed down.

"Now don't go telling me that they're not your family. I'd have to be blind not to see how much you care about those three. And that Abby girl, with all the odd decorations. Ducky's a good man, too – and he can sure tell a story. You don't think they're all true, do you?" Jackson's attention wandered for a moment, and then he went on. "Without Shannon and Kelly, you built yourself a new family. A good one. One worth protecting. And I'm real pleased that you're letting me into it."

Jackson fell silent, deep in thought for a moment. "So, I assume this happened on your little jaunt to Africa?"

"You know I can't answer that." Gibbs was definite. Not to mention confused. How could Jackson know where he'd been? Aside from Leon Vance and a few other people at NCIS, no-one knew where Gibbs' team had gone to find Ziva. He knew he'd said nothing, and he didn't even need to wonder about his team. Nothing was ever going to be said where anyone but his team could hear it.

"I'm not asking you to, Leroy. Although I don't hear you denying it, either." Jackson sounded faintly smug about getting one over on Gibbs. "I called the office and you weren't there. I had a chat with Abby instead. And she told me all about the pyramids in Egypt, the churches in Ethiopia, starving children, rhino poaching, the Victoria Falls, and how hard it is to get American soft drinks in a variety of countries. The only common thing I could see in all that was Africa." Jackson smiled. "Do you ever think that maybe Abby's had enough caffeine?"

Everything was suddenly clear, and Gibbs could only chuckle. "I might think it, Dad, but even I'm not brave enough or dumb enough to go there."

Jackson sighed melodramatically. "Now, just where was she when I tried to get you to do anything as a teenager?"

Both men shared a laugh at that thought. Jackson sat patiently and Gibbs just looked at his father. Looked, and for the first time in many years, saw. Saw an honest man, a hard working man, a man slow to judge and quick to excuse. Someone to emulate. And someone to love. He wanted to say it, to make sure his father knew just how much he loved him, and appreciated the foundations his father had laid in Gibbs' life. But somehow, the words just wouldn't come. He hoped they showed in his eyes as he reached out and grabbed his dad's hand, and hung on tightly.

Jackson nodded once and tightened his drip in turn. "I know you're not big on talking, Leroy."

"I've been called a functional mute." Gibbs murmur was clear enough to Jackson, who thought for a moment and then burst out laughing. "Tony, I'm thinking."

Gibbs smiled back, amused but somehow pleased as well. Pleased that Jackson knew without being told. Even more pleased that Tony felt close enough to Gibbs to let Saleem's truth serum drag the description from him, and not feel the need to apologise to Gibbs for what he'd said after the drugs wore off. He'd never doubted Tony's strength of character, but the younger man's father had done a lot of damage. Tony spent too much time apologising for the things he couldn't change, and the fact that he hadn't this time was the only good thing to come out of the whole Somalia operation. Aside from finding Ziva.

"Like I said," Jackson could be stubborn too, "you may prefer to be what Tony called you, but we both know better. Tonight proves that you're more than you let people see."

Jackson shook his head in the face of Gibbs' continued silence. The last time Gibbs had talked as much as he had this night, he'd been telling Jackson about Shannon. "And if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me."

As their eyes met over their tightly clasped hands, both men smiled. Reassured that making the hard choices didn't make them any less human. Sometimes, it made you more so. Finally relaxing, Gibbs gently pulled his hand free. Certain now that, in time, Jackson would be fine. He smiled and headed towards the basement door, leaving Jackson to watch the flames dance in the hearth.

* * *

><p>Jackson Gibbs drew a deep breath after Leroy headed downstairs. He had never really expected Leroy to open up to him, but maybe Leroy had needed some comfort too. Jackson had always known that his son carried a huge burden of guilt and sorrow; had known it since Shannon and Kelly had died. But the full extent of the weight was staggering. Yet somehow, Leroy managed to not only stand beneath that weight, but live what seemed to be a relatively normal life. Surrounded by people like Tony and the rest of the group at NCIS, people who quite clearly cared deeply about his incredibly stubborn son, and were willing to help him.<p>

They were a family by choice, Jackson realised. And he was once again a member of his son's chosen kin. He'd never thought, or even hoped, that he'd ever be in that position again - but it seemed tonight was the night for a Christmas miracle of sorts. Jackson Gibbs smiled gently at the thought. Then he pulled himself up from his seat, and followed Leroy's path to the basement. There were still gifts to paint, and ghosts to banish.


End file.
